Owen was confused about why Bartz would have reservations about his mother. Maybe the railroad wasn’t getting along with the city admin folks? But his attention was elsewhere, with the expedition. “We’re going back to the satellite?”
“No, no, nothing like that. The SLS would be all over us. It’s some railroad business you might find interesting, though, along the same lines in terms of finding Old World tech. And if you get involved they may want you to help more. You can learn more about what we’re working on.”
Finally, Owen felt at least somewhat vindicated for coming to see Preston. Something was actually being planned after the valley! Although it did make him a bit uncomfortable that it was being organized by the railroad. He didn’t want to be forced into leaving trade school, if that’s what was required.
But after being alone with his thoughts for so long—after knowing they were so close to obtaining something as groundbreaking as the phone—he wanted to be doing something important. He was either part of this, with any warts or lemons it might come with, or he was in the dark. He couldn’t stand being in the dark.
“I’d like that, Preston.”
Preston’s lip curled slightly, and he nodded. “Good. I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Great, Preston. Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Owen had more questions, but he knew Preston had secrets to keep, and he didn’t want to push his luck. Preston was looking back at the interior door of the bunker.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” Owen said, getting the hint, “Please, let me know.”
Preston only nodded.
As Owen made to leave Preston called after him. “You heard what Bartz said, right? The electrical drive systems and this expedition—you know what could happen if you tell anyone?”
“Yeah, I know,” Owen answered, but his skin crawled a little bit. Everyone was trying to keep him quiet, now even his best friend.
Owen slowly pushed open the cement door, exited, and closed it carefully behind him. He made sure it was properly sealed.
Although he was somewhat put out by the uncomfortable exchange, at least Owen knew plans were being made. They were looking for opportunities to make progress, perhaps not with a smartphone but with something similar. It was enough for Owen to come away satisfied—enough for him to declare his itch had been scratched, at least for the day.
A SLIVER IN HER HANDS
It happened again. Late in the evening the rain was pouring down outside, and Reed opened the tent flap. His face was flushed and water was dripping off his hair. He’d been at Splitstone’s, or Bluetoe’s, and they had probably been talking or drinking or both. His eyes had the look again, and Flora braced herself, knowing what was coming.
Talon saw it coming as well. He began herding the children out of the tent and into the downpour. They knew it was best not to protest.
It was probably the retcher incident. She was getting a lot of attention, speaking with Chief Darkwind and now she had a meeting scheduled with the curator. She told Reed it wasn’t anything good, that if anything she was in trouble, but it wouldn’t matter. The light was on her, and not him, and he hadn’t been there when he should have been.
Or maybe it was for some other reason. Or maybe it was for no reason at all.
The first punch was the worst. It always hurt the most. She never knew where it would land, and he didn’t like it when she blocked it. For the rest she could ball up and protect herself, but not for the first.
He hit her on her back, her side, her shoulders. He usually avoided her face, but this time he punched at her hands as they cocooned her head. The backs of her hands smarted painfully. The inertia of the blows might even leave a mark on her face. But she knew if she removed her hands, and he hit her directly, the bruises would be her fault. Then he would hurt her more, maybe tomorrow as well.
What was most painful—what made this beating worse than the others, what drove her to tears—was what she saw through the slit in her fingers between punches. Well into the blows from Reed, when he was coughing from exhaustion, and the expletives were fewer, she saw Talon watching, standing in the back of the tent, a hollow look on his face.
There was no sadness, no anger, no shock. There was only emptiness in his eyes, a chasm of emotion.
THE RITUAL
Lightning continued to reach down in bright corkscrews across the water, igniting the night sky, but the intervals of thunder were getting farther apart. Nature’s fireworks were at their disposal, from the comfort of their seaside mansion. Their mansion, courtesy of Nadar Corporation.
Axel herded Erin, Sasha and Zach in from the porch. “Okay, in we go. Show’s over. Time for bed.”
“Goodnight, Dad,” Sasha said for them as they headed for the stairs.
“Erin, you hang back.”
Erin turned around, her short braids swiveling to the front to brush her cheeks. “What?”
“It’s your turn to do the ritual.”
Erin rolled her eyes.
Axel loved the way she rolled her eyes. She didn’t quite do it the way most would. It was as if she were playing a game of pinball with her eyes. Her irises would hit a wall in the corner of her eye socket and then bounce to the opposite corner. Someday someone would tell her she was doing it wrong, but hopefully not any time soon.
Axel didn’t reveal his amusement. Instead he was stern with her. She was always the least willing, even though she knew the words perfectly well.
“We’re doing it,” he said firmly.
She shrugged, and they nestled into the leather couches in the living room.
Erin closed her eyes and said the names. “Peers Lindberg, Teodor Lindberg, Erna Lindberg, Robert Kelemen, Daniel Kelemen, Axel Kelemen, Erin Kelemen.”
She opened her eyes.
“And now what?” Axel asked.
Erin gave him a sour face.
“Most people lose track of their ancestors, but we haven’t. This is why,” Axel explained.
“Heaven forbid we forget someone we’ve never met,” Erin said.
Axel had the same thoughts when he was a teenager. He even stopped doing the ritual for several years. It was only later, when he had children of his own, that he really understood. “They aren’t just names, Erin. We have a good life now, but for many of our ancestors life was a desperate struggle. For many of them, death was always close, just around the corner. It’s a matter of great pride to be on this list, to have survived. It should be for you, as well. And it’s not only so you remember them. It’s out of respect for them—for the sacrifices they made for us.”
Erin’s face remained defiant, but she said, “Okay.”
Axel took the opportunity to drill his point home. “Erin, when you have a group of people who are on your mind, you tend to not want to let them down; you tend to want to do well by them.” Erin would know he meant their ancestors, but Axel’s explanation made him think more of Pauline and the kids. Whenever Axel heard the ritual he thought more of them than anyone else.
“Sounds like some sort of mind control,” Erin said.
Axel stopped smiling and looked at her gravely. His children knew his serious look. Once his faint hint of a smile was gone, it was time to comply or face the consequences.